The Stark County Democrat. [volume] (Canton, Ohio) 1833-1912, 1887-06-30


give ii 10 them? The officers of the law
ought 10 90 down into the cellars, and up
into the garrets, and bring out these
benighted little ones and put them under
educational Influences; after they have
passed through the bath and under the
comb, butting before them the spelling
book, and teaching them to read the Lords
Prayer and the sermon on the mount:
"Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is
the kinpdom of Heaven" Our city ought
to be father and mother both to these out
cast little ones. AS a recipe for the cure
of much of the woe, and want and crime of
our city, l give the words which Thor
waldsen had chiseled on the open scroll in
the hand of the statue Of John Gutenberg,
the inventor OF the art Of printing: Let
there be light"
Still further: Reformatory societies are
an important element in the rectifcation
of the public fountain. Without calling
any Of them by name, refer more espe-
chilly to those which recognize the phys
ical as we'll as the moral woes of the world.
There was pathos and great deal of COM
mon sense in what the poor woman said to
DR.. Guthrie when he was telling her what
q very good woman she ought to be. "Oh.
she said, "if you were as hungry and cold
as | am, you could think of nothing else.
/ believe the great want of our city is the
Gospel and something to eat. Faith and
repentance are of infinite importance; but
they cannot satisfy an empty stomach.
You have to 60 forth in this work with the
bread of eternal life in your right hand and
the bread of this life in your left hand, and
then you can touch them, initiating the
Lord Jesus Christ, who first broke the
I Fs1 Al. Il,
ness, and then began to preach, recognize
! ing the fact that while people are hungry
| they will not listen and they will not re-
! pent We want more common sense in
! the distribution OF our charities; fewer
magnificent theories, and more hard work.
Still further: The great remedial in
! fueuce is the gospel OF Christ. Take that
! down through the lanes of suffering. Take
! that down amid the novels of sin. Take
! that up amid the mansions and palaces of
| your city. That is the salt that can cur G
! all the poisoned fountains of public in =
! iquity. Do you know that in this cluster
| of three cities, New York, Jersey City,
and Brooklyn, there are great multitude
of homeless children? You see 1 speak
more in regard to the youth and the chill
! dren of the country, because old villains
are seldom reformed, and therefore, talk
| more about the little ones. They sleep
I under the stoops, in the burned out safe,
| in the wagons in the streets, on the barges,
| wherever they can get board to cover
| them. And in the summer they sleep all
night long in the parks. Their restitution
! IS well set forth by an incident. A city
! missionary asked one of them: "Where is
your home?" Said he: II don't have nc
home, SIR" "Well, where are your father
and mother?" "Ihey are dead, sir" "Did
you ever hear of Jesus Christi" "No,
! don't think 1 ever heard of him." "Did
! you ever hear of God?" ayes, I've heard
Of God: Some of the poor people think il
kind Of lucky ut night to say something
over about that before they 60 TO sleep.
Yes, sir, I've heard of him." Think of q
| conversation like that in Christian city.
How many are waiting for you to come
| out in the spirit of the Lord Jesus Christ
and rescue them from the wretchedness
here! Oh, that the church of God had arms
| long enough and hearts warm enough to
take them upl How many of them there
are AS was thinking of the subject this
| morning, it seemed 10 me as though there
| was q great brink, and that these little ones
with cut and torn feet were coming on
toward it. And here is group of orphans.
| Oh, fathers and mothers, what do you
think of these fatherless and motherless
little ones? No hand at home to tade cafe
of their apparel, no heart to pity them.
Said one little one, when the mother died:
"Who will take care of my clothes nowP"
The little ones are thrown out in this great,
cold world. They are shivering on the
brink like lambs on the verge of precipice,
Does not your blood run cold as they go
over it?
And here is another group that come on
toward the precipice. They are the children
of besotted parents. They are worse of
than orphans. Look at that pale cheek;
woe bleached it, Look at that cash across
| the forehead; the father struck it. Hear
] that heart piercing cry; drunken mothers
blasphemy compelled it. And we come out
and say: 80 We suffering, peeled and blis-
tered ones, we come 10 help you." "Too
late!" cry thousands of voices; "the path
we travel is steep down, and we can't stop.
Too late." And we catch our breath and
make terrific outcry. "Too late!" is
echoed from the garret to the cellar, from
the gin shop and from the brothel. "Too
late" 1t is too late, and they 90 over.
Here is another group, an army of neg
brink, and every time they step 10000
blood of their feet. The air is heavy with
their groans. Their ranks are being filled
up from all the houses of iniquity and
shame. Skeleton Despair pushes them on
toward the brink. The death knell has
already begun to toll, and the angels of
God hover like birds over the plunge of o
cataract. While these children are on the
brink they halt, and throw out their hands
and cry: "Help! help!" Oh, church of
God, will you help? Men and women
bought by the blood of the Son of God, will
you help2 while Christ cries from the
heavens: "Save them from going down; I
am the ransom"
stopped on the street and Just looked
at the fa of one of those little ones. Have
you ever = lined the faces of the neg
iected chidl en- of the poor? Other children
have gladness in their faces. When a
group of them rush across the road, it
seems as though spring gust had un-
loosened an orchard Of apple blossoms. But
these children of the poor. There is but
little ring in their laughter, and it stops
quick, as though same bitter memory
trippedit. Theyha an old walk. They do
not skip or run on the lumber just for the
pleasure of leaping down. They never
bathed in the mountain stream. They never
waded in the brook for pebbles. They
never chased the butterfly across the lawn,
putting their hat right down where it was
Just before. Childhood has been dashed
out of them. Want waved its wizard wand
above the manger of their birth, and with
cred leaves are lying where God intended a
budding giant of battle. Once in while
one of these children gets out. Here is
one, for instance. At 10years of age he is
sent out by his parents, who say to him:
"Here is basket; now go off and beg and
steal" The boy says: u can'tsteal." They
kick him into corner. That night he
puts his swollen head into the straw, but o
voice comes from heaven, saying: "Cour-